When Jeff Comes Home (17 page)

"I'm not scared," I said. Neither of them looked at me.

"Jeff isn't talking," Stephens repeated. "And they know it. That gives Slaight the freedom to shape the story any way he wants. He's
admitting
that he had something going with the kid. He's not ashamed of it."

"Shut up," I said softly.

"Slaight says the pictures were your idea, Jeff. He says you offered to pose for them one Christmas."

Sickened, I felt my throat go dry. All I could do was shake my head.

"You gonna let that stand?" Stephens persisted. "You gonna let Ray Slaight do your talking for you?"

Dad held up his hand. "Enough. What do you need from Jeff? Today."

"The location where he was kept," Stephens said promptly.

"No," I said before he finished speaking. "No."

Moving deliberately this time, Stephens reached over and grasped my wrist. I stared down at his meaty hand, then back at his face.

"He's still got you, Jeff. He's a hundred and fifty miles away and he's still holding you down. When are you going to fight back?"

I pulled my wrist away, glaring at him. "I did fight back. And guess what?
It didn't work.”

"Okay," Stephens said. "You fought back. Tell me about that. One incident."

I stared at him blankly. The punchline of every incident with Ray was the same: I lost. And every loss had pulled me deeper into his world. I could taste that defeat even now, sitting in the quiet living room with Stephens and Dad.

I opened my mouth to reply to Stephens, not sure what I was going to say, but Dad spoke for me.

"Give him some time to think about this," he said. "A few more days ..."

Never.

I DRAGGED THE RAKE ACROSS THE FROST-

hardened ground, bringing with it only a few of the thumb-sized oak leaves that covered the front lawn. Grumbling to myself, I tried again, this time applying more force. A half hour's work so far had produced only a modest pile of leaves and a growing ache in my back and forearms. I had no energy for the job, and my heart wasn't in it. But I knew why I was out there. The finished product—a clean lawn, the leaves neatly bagged and stored out of sight—would serve as both an offering and an apology to Dad.

Look, Daddy, I raked the lawn for you. See! See what a good boy I am!

I curled my lip, disgusted with myself. As if anything could be good enough for him now. Holding the rake for support, I rested, staring at the ground.

"Jeff!" I looked up quickly. Vin was striding toward me across the vacant lot, moving with purpose.

"Shit," I said under my breath, starting to rake again as if
I
had a purpose.

"Hey," he said as he reached me, an edge of aggression in his voice.

He knows.

"Hi," I said calmly, bluffing it out. "You're early. It can't be lunch yet."

Vin shook his head impatiently. "It's break time," he said, looking back over his shoulder.

"Huh." I moved away from him, attacking a clump of wet leaves stuck to the side of the house.

Vin came around and grabbed the rake out of my hands. Shocked, I stepped back from him.

"Is it true?" he said, staring at me.

I couldn't meet his eyes. "Is what true?"

Vin tossed the rake to one side. "There's a story in the Modesto
Bee
today. My mom showed it to me at breakfast. It says that guy took naked pictures of you. That's what those reporters were asking about, isn't it?"

I shrugged, chilled, wanting away from him but afraid to move.

"Hey,
I'm
in that goddamn story," Vin said, his voice low and furious. "A picture of me, anyway, standing next to you outside your house. That went over big today."

"What do you want me to say, Vin?"

"Why did you lie? Why didn't you even give me the chance to handle it?"

At this I looked up. Vin was squinting at me, his head tilted. There was a softness in his expression, a quality of hurt—he was giving me an opening.

I would not—could not—take it. "I don't know what you're talking about. I didn't lie to you about anything."

"You said he never touched you!" Vin was angry again. He took a step forward, his hands clenched by his sides. "You told me that and I went with it. That's what I've been telling people. That's how I've been defending you."

"You've been
defending
me, huh?" My voice was shaking. "Defending me against what?"

Vin gave me a "come on!" tilt of his head. "You know what."

"Uh-huh," I said after a moment, nodding. "Well, now you can stop defending me. You have my permission, if you need it." I could feel my defensive energy starting to drain away. Stepping around him carefully, averting my eyes as I passed, I headed back toward the porch steps.

"Jeff, wait," Vin called after me, not following.

Halfway up the steps, I turned back to him, keeping a solid grasp on the porch rail. "What?" I said, my voice weary.

"You lied to me," Vin said, faltering for the first time. "You sent me out to fight your battles, and you didn't... you didn't give me the ammunition."

“
Ammunition
?” I watched his face redden but Vin did not look away. "Hey, no one sent you anywhere to do anything."

"You hung me out to dry," he said stubbornly. "You don't know what they're saying."

I considered him. "Fuck them. And fuck you. Anyway, you're off the case. So forget about it."

"It is true, isn't it," he said, softly this time. "You were makin' it with that guy."

"I have to go inside now," I told him, fighting to keep my voice steady. "See you in school."

“
School?”
I heard the concern in Vin's voice, still there even amidst his anger and disgust at me. "Jeff, forget about school."

I let myself into the house, closing the door behind me. I did not look back.

The Wayne Telegraph arrived at four. Its banner headline read
Police Find Nude Photos of Local Kidnap Victim
.
I knew Vin would not be happy to find himself on the front page with me again. Maybe the suspicious frown the photographer had caught would set Vin right again in his friends' eyes.

I turned the television on after that, scanning back and forth among the four Sacramento stations that considered Wayne part of their region. I kept missing the promos for their local news programs coming up at five. I cursed Charlie to her face when she tried to distract me, and after that, she left me alone.

At five o'clock, it was as I had feared, but not believed possible. Each station led off with the news about the pictures. I flipped back and forth until the story was played out. When I turned to leave the room, I found Connie and Brian standing in the archway, watching along with me.

Dad was home by six, furious—at the media, he said. I avoided him, knowing that part of his anger, whether he admitted it or not, was intended for me.

"There was no reason they had to go public with this," he raged at the dinner table. "They're playing right into Slaight's hands." He cut Connie off as she started to speak. "What? Don't tell me to relax. These people have no understanding—"

With difficulty, Connie broke in. "I wasn't going to say that, Ken. I was going to say that I don't think we need to discuss this anymore. Especially in front of the kids. The story's out, and we all feel bad about it. Why go over it again?"

I looked at Connie with approval. That even quieted Dad.

"Jeff?" Brian's voice was wary. Dad looked up at him quickly.

"Yes?" I said uninvitingly.

"That guy—" he started.

Dad jumped in immediately. "Brian, listen to your mother. We're not going to talk about this."

"But I just want to say something to Jeff," he protested.

"Brian," Connie warned softly.

He waited, then blurted out, "I'm sorry that guy made you do stuff, Jeff. That's all I want to say."

I waited for Dad to jump on him again. He didn't. The silence lengthened.

Ray didn't do anything to me. Yeah, I took my clothes off for him, and yeah, he took pictures of me, but that doesn't mean
. . .

Without looking at any of them, I mumbled, "Sorry I lied to you guys."

After a short silence, Charlie leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. I stared down at my plate, ashamed.

"It's okay," she said quietly, resting her head against mine for a moment.

"So," Dad said, clearing his throat, "Jeff, about tomorrow ..."

I had an appointment the next day at Wayne High to register and sign up for classes.

"Yes?" I said, wary of any more changes, any more "news."

"I'm going over with you. I decided to take a day off work."

"Why?" I said quickly. "I can do it myself."

Why do it at all? You know what's going to happen.

But I would not explain that to Dad, or ask for quarter, or make myself any more pathetic than he already thought me.

"Dad," Charlie said, "are you sure ... I mean ..."

"What is it, Charlie?" Dad asked, his tone kinder than usual.

"Well..." She glanced at me. "Maybe you should wait a little bit longer before Jeff goes back to school. People were talking about him today. You know, because of what was in the papers and stuff."

Dad sighed, putting his water glass down. "How long do we wait? Two weeks? Two months? There's no guarantee things will be any easier then. Jeff, as tough as this may be, I don't see any percentage in waiting. We can't let that man take away any more of your opportunities."

"Okay, Dad," I said, to stop him. "I'm going. I am. I just think I should sign up for classes myself, like we planned." I couldn't tell him the truth, that I was afraid of what he might hear about me if we went over together.

Dad looked a little hurt. "Are you meeting Vin over there? Is that it?"

"No," I said flatly. Charlie stared at me.

"Jeff, I'm coming with you tomorrow," Dad said. "You'll have plenty of time for independence when you start school for real on Monday."

I was silent during the short ride to school the next day.

"Nervous?" Dad asked as we reached Wayne High.

"A little," I mumbled, sinking down lower in the seat. Hordes of students filled the sidewalk in front of the high school. Another mob was crossing Delano Road, the public street that split the science, shop and agriculture complexes off from the rest of the campus. Dad turned right off Delano into the Wayne High faculty and visitors parking lot.

"Isn't that Vin?" he asked, cruising slowly through the lot, pointing up toward the redbrick science building. "Over there, coming out of that classroom?"

"I don't know," I said, staring down at my hands.

"Well, look up so you will know." Dad sounded impatient.

Vin was alone, a backpack slung carelessly across his shoulder. He called out to someone in the parking lot, looking past the Jeep, apparently not seeing us. "Yeah, that's him," I said.

Keep driving, I begged silently, but Dad pulled into a spot next to the short flight of stairs Vin was descending. I kept my head down, making no move to leave the Jeep, but Dad stepped out quickly and intercepted him.

"How are you, Vin?" Dad asked, motioning to me. I opened the door slowly and took my time getting out.

"I'm okay, Mr. Hart," Vin said, with a noticeable lack of enthusiasm, shifting his backpack to the other side.

"Perini!" someone called from the lot. Vin brightened, waving in the direction of the voice.

"Well, I better get—"

"Jeff's signing up for classes today," Dad broke in. I stood behind him, staring at my feet.

"Yeah? That's good. Well, I have to get going. See you, Jeff. See you, Mr. Hart." Vin took off at a faster pace than his usual swagger.

"What's wrong with him?" Dad sounded bewildered.

"He knows about the pictures," I said simply.

"I can't believe it," Dad said with some bitterness. "I thought that kid was your friend."

The counselor was a woman who didn't look much older than me. It was easy for Dad to convince her that I should be placed in college prep classes. As she ran down my schedule—PE, composition, algebra, U.S. history, biology, and computer science—I felt my stomach fluttering. I looked forward to the distraction the homework would provide, but I still didn't see how I could jump from being an eighth-grade dropout to a high school junior preparing to attend university.

Afterward, Dad took me downtown to a Mexican restaurant for lunch. After the waitress had taken our orders, he said hesitantly, "Jeff, the PE thing, how are you going to handle that?"

It was the first time he had mentioned my back since the day I had told him about it.

I took a deep breath. "When I change, I'm going to wear an undershirt. And I won't shower."